


Only the Shadows Bear Witness

by SilverMirror12



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, all the hurt is implied, but you're villains so you can only express this through insults and snark, emphasis on the comfort, tfw when you care more than you meant to
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-22 11:54:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15581406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverMirror12/pseuds/SilverMirror12
Summary: Edward refused to talk about what happened. The most Jonathan got was a flippant handwave and, “Just a group of idiots who are now a group ofdeadidiots.” And in the days that followed, it seemed like the kidnapping really was just an irritable inconvenience as Edward settled back into work.The nights told a different story.





	Only the Shadows Bear Witness

It took three days.

Three days after Edward went missing for Jonathan to find him. Not that he was _looking_. If anyone were to ask, Jonathan would say that he was too busy enjoying the rare hours of peace and quiet, before gassing them for their trouble. But nobody asked, not even Edward when all was said and done. When The Riddler emerged from the boathouse just as Jonathan arrived, his eye black and his suit splattered red, all he gave his part-time lover was a raised eyebrow.

“You’re late,” he said, haughty and disdainful as he began to button his bloody jacket.

Jonathan shrugged and pretended he wasn’t looking for clues to determine who the blood belonged to. “You didn’t leave a forwarding address.”

“ _Shocking_ though it may seem, my Neanderthal hosts weren’t considerate enough to allow me to leave a note,” Edward muttered before scowling down at his buttons. “What the hell is wrong with this damn thing…”

Jonathan tactfully didn’t point out that Edward’s hands were shaking too much to properly fasten the jacket.

 

* * *

 

Edward refused to talk about what happened. The most Jonathan got was a flippant handwave and, “Just a group of idiots who are now a group of _dead_ idiots.” And in the days that followed, it seemed like the kidnapping really was just an irritable inconvenience as Edward settled back into work.

The nights told a different story.

It wasn’t unusual for Edward to be the first to retire in the house they both refused to admit they shared out of anything more than convenience. But the nightmares that followed him were new and frequent. Edward always emerged in the morning without a hair or quip out of place, and to his credit his act would have fooled anyone but Jon, who heard the telltale symphony of terror every night. The rustling of bedsheets twisted around thrashing legs, the nonsensical murmurs of distress, the drowning gasp when the dream finally relinquished its hold, leaving only fear behind… it was a beautiful sound. Jonathan was sick of hearing it.

(If anyone tried to ask why _that_ was, they’d be dead before their lips finished forming the question.)

On the fifth night of the cycle, Jonathan set down his pen an hour after Edward closed the bedroom door behind him. He’d been audience to this routine long enough to know the schedule. Jonathan allowed himself no time to think as he stood, grabbed a random book and strode toward the door, lest he lose his nerve and abandon his foolishness entirely.

Edward’s red hair the only visible part of him above the blankets as he lay curled away from the doorway. Jonathan settled atop the bed, turned on the lamp beside him to its lowest setting, and opened the book to a random page. The words barely registered while he waited for the inevitable.

Soon enough, Edward’s form began to shift. His hand grasped at phantoms in the air as he turned around on his side and back again. After taking a moment to steel himself, Jonathan placed a gentle hand on Edward’s shoulder and shook him once.

Edward’s eyes shot open, his body rigid for one terrified moment before he jolted upright, covering his face with his hand and gulping down shallow breaths. When he raised his head and blinked at the unexpectedly lit room, Jonathan kept his eyes firmly on the book.

“Jon?” For a moment, caught off guard without time to prepare his mask, Edward’s voice sounded small and uncertain. It twisted something unnameable in Jonathan’s gut. Edward noticed it too, because he roughly cleared his throat and straightened his back.

“What are you doing?”

“Reading,” Jon replied.

“I thought you were working.”

“I finished.”

Edward’s eyes narrowed. “You never _finish_. You just pause when outside distractions become too persistent to ignore.”

“Who told you that?”

“ _You._ ”

“Hm.” Jonathan turned a page. “Call it what you want. The numbers were starting to blur together.” He glanced at Edward, keeping his tone casual. “Bad dream?”

Edward fell back against the headboard with a groan. “Oh Christ, I should’ve known. You’ve been watching me sleep, haven’t you? Just—just _looming_ over me like some damn _gargoyle_. What is that, a notebook?” Edward twisted to snatch the offending notes from Jonathan’s hands, but stopped short when the book’s cover came into light. “That’s…one of mine.”

Jonathan kept his breathing deep and even. “I told you, the numbers were bleeding together. I needed to look at something different.”

“I thought you didn’t care for fiction.”

“I also don’t care for dislocating my own shoulder. Doesn’t mean I never do it.”

Edward stared at him, and Jonathan fought the urge to fidget. He was acutely aware that he wasn’t anyone’s first choice when it came to giving comfort. Sex was one thing – it was like science, in a way. Suck X for Y result, biting A triggers reaction B…simple enough to master with enough observation and trials. Comforting someone involved too many nuances that Jonathan never had the temperament to learn. He always came across too clinical when he bothered to try; his touch was too stiff, and his words were too cold. A scarecrow was not built to soothe.

“What are you doing, Jon?” Edward repeated quietly. Even with cold sweat drying on his temples, Edward’s mind was working, picking at Jonathan’s words and body to discern why he was stepping outside the rules of their game.

“ _Reading,_ Edward,” Jonathan snapped, sharper and meaner than he meant to. “I think even a thrice concussed Bat could’ve figured _that_ out.”

The moment broke, and Edward scowled. “Fine. _Read_ , then. I’m going back to sleep.” With a level of dramatics only Edward was capable of, he made a grand show of fluffing his pillows and turning over, huffing some more before falling silent. Jonathan traced the corner of the book jacket with his nail and counted the seconds. At 72, Edward let out a drawn-out sigh and sat up.

“I cannot possibly sleep with that damn light on.”

Jonathan shrugged. “I ain’t touchin’ it.”

“Of course not. Inconsiderate hick.”

“Dumbass.”

Edward swatted his arm and began to scoot closer. “The least you can do is entertain me, since you insist on keeping me awake.”

“You could sleep on the couch.” Jonathan was already raising his arm to settle around Edward’s shoulders.

“And _you_ could sleep on the floor. Don’t tempt me. _Ugh_.” Edward poked Jonathan’s arm. “Your shoulders are so damned _bony_. How do you ev—mmp!”

“Shut up, Edward,” Jonathan intoned before releasing Edward’s head from its place squashed against his shirt. Edward made a token grumble but settled his cheek against Jonathan’s shoulder. As a consolation Jonathan traced his nails up and down the bare skin of Edward’s arm, not needing to look to know Ed’s eyes fluttered closed at the sensation. After that the only words spoken were those of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

When the sound of deep breathing at last underlined the syllables, Jonathan closed the book and shut off the light. With only the shadows to bear witness, he pressed his lips to the crown of Edward’s head and pulled him closer before closing his own eyes. Jonathan didn’t move again and, for the rest of the night, neither did Edward.

**Author's Note:**

> If you'd like to chat with me about Batman rogues and the various ways they can be shipped together, feel free to say hi on [tumblr](https://trellanyx.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
